Warriors of Design
by The Chosen Writers
Summary: They were designed in a lab. Their armor, made in a lab. Who they are, how they work, came from training. Bred to be the best Humanity has to offer, the Spartans are about to be Humanity's shield and sword. The Covenant has come knocking and delivered a sucker punch to an unguarded UNSC. The people call for blood. If it's blood they want, its blood they will get. Slight-AU
1. The beginning

**_Chapter 1_**

AN: My first attempt at something like this. Had this festering for a few days, before I finally decided to stop being lazy and write it out. I thought it turned out okay. Hope you all enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Halo. I only own my OC

Summary: AU It's the year 2517. The spartan program has just begun. This is the story and journey of one of the Candidates from training, to the Human-Covenant war. To beyond and everywhere in between. OC x Linda (Major year skips.)

* * *

-1306 hours, September 10, 2517

-Verent, Unknown system-

-No PoV-

Doctor Catherine Elizabeth Halsey wrote notes on her datapad, while her partner watched the children running around the park a little ways from school grounds with a magnificent child-like innocence. An innocence Halsey had long since lost. Even after the kids went back into the school, leaving the playground structure abandoned, the energy and carefree attitude of the children remained. Packing her things in a handbag, Halsey and her companion, Lieutenant Junior Grade Jacob Keyes, began to walk about afront the educational facility. Verent was an interesting planet, Halsey decided, filled with nearly someone from every 'caste' system throughout the outer colony world. And yet, she mused, piracy was not as prominent as it had been on Eridanus. Maybe it was because the insurrection has no presence on or near the planet. From what ONI knew, at least. But the capital city of Jemsey, was rough place, despite the planet's relatively short history as a colony. Only three generations in 78 years as colonized planet and only 43 of those years as a part of the United Earth Government.

Their cover was the same as they used on Eridanus nearly a month ago, but it held strong even under questioning from several faculty from the school. Not hard when you can cement it with falsified documents. Pulling a small device, no bigger than her hand from her bag, she reviewed the two profiles that had them in Jemsey, Verent, in the first place. Number-057 and Number-058. Both shared the same genetic markers the doctor desired and required from all of her subjects. Merging two files onto the small screen, Halsey tapped on both portraits. 057 had pale skin, blue eyes and auburn hair pulled into an obvious ponytail. A barely visible dusting of freckles on her face, and slightly chapped pale lips. 058, on the other hand, had slightly tan skin, jaw length red hair, and calculating green eyes. And unlike 057, 058 had no freckles on her face, and darker colored lips to match her skin. Tilting it to her side, she showed Keyes the pictures of the two candidates.

"We saw them earlier, didn't we." Keyes whispered.

Halsey nodded in reply and the two walked around the facility and back into the park, sitting on a bench closer to the school. The educational facility dismissal buzzer beeps, and in an anything but calm manner, students rushed into their parents arms, while the older ones simply sprinted out and down the street. The lieutenant shifted visibly in his seat, out of his preferred element. Halsey ignored Keyes' shuffling and movement, having grown used to it on most planets they visited, choosing rather, to watch the two candidates as they ran past. During the break, both were serious, but now 057 had lost the serious demeanor she had and was laughing, as was 058, although to a lesser extent. Once the children exited the vision of the adults, the two proceeded back to the landing pad of the diplomatic shuttle Hans. With the final candidates of 76 observed and logged in her list, Halsey oriented the unarmed craft back to Reach. Phase three was near.

-2433 hours, September 22, 2517-

-ONI Base Braxton II, Reach, Epsilon Eridani II-

-No PoV-

"Are all of the candidates as listed and described, Doctor?"

 _Across UNSC space, many prowlers dropped out of slipspace and proceeded to their first assigned planets._

"Yes. Phase three is proceeding as planned."

 _Men dressed in black infiltrated two homes on an outer colony, placing flash clones in place of the child in their arms. And, as quickly as they arrived, they left. No sign was left of them ever being there. Each and every team repeated this process three to four times, gathering all the subjects on their lists. No one was the wiser._

"Good. You may begin your 'brain-child project'."

 _ONI prowlers dropped from slipspace around Reach and descended, and landed one by one at an undisclosed location._

The SPARTAN-II project received the green light.

* * *

-0930 hours, October 24, 2517-

-Classified Location, Reach, Epsilon Eridani II-

-S-057 PoV-

Home. That's what this place is now. That lone fact became the dominating factor in the minds of myself and the other 75 kids. "Candidates" CPO Mendez called us at first, then "trainees". The first month was protocol and acting in a proper manner befitting of who we were to become and who we represented. At least being near Linda helped me. It offered me a sense of security in this place that was so alien, so wrong. I shook my head, struggling over a log. I greedily gulped in air. CPO Mendez dropped all 76 of us at the bottom of the Highland Mountain. Our standing orders were to climb it, trudge through Military Reserve 01478-B to Camp Hathcock while avoiding marines. I forced my gaze forward, sluggishly darting around the thick trees ahead. I doubted I was even halfway up the hill, and still had yet to encounter any other of the trainees.

I had lost track of the time, but it couldn't have been more than two hours since the training exercise had begun. The air was cleaner than it was at the facility. A chain link fence with barbed wire blocked me from my path. Beyond that lay MR 01478-B, and Camp Hathcock. I shook, breathless and tired, my limbs shaking from the agonizing two hour climb. I drifted slowly across the fence, searching for any flaw. It's something I enjoyed doing, finding things that I shouldn't. It was the part of the reason Linda and I got along well. With a quiet yelp of happiness, I wiggled myself under a small gap in the fence.

CPO Mendez Rule One: Adapt or Die.

That was one rule of many Mendez had taught us the very first day, and continued to remind us of. The bottom of the fence scrapped my arms, back and legs, and I bit my lip to keep quiet. The space in front of me was open, too open. A little ways away, the tree line loomed. At least those lessons from Déjà are paying off, I hummed to myself. The space was bare, except for the patches of tall grass, a big stick or two, and small, colored spheres. With a body wracking shiver, I moved from patch to patch of tall grass. Marines were added to the exercise, forcing us to use our heads. I heard something on the marine a few feet away from me crackle to life. He mumbled something back, before his pace quickened and he exited my field of vision. I waited for a minute. Then two, and three, before I risked moving. I moved as fast as I could into the tree line, before bobbing and weaving through the trees themselves with a tired sway. Catching a root, I yelped as I fell nearly face first into a tree not three feet away. I slammed a hand over my mouth, glancing around worriedly. I spotted another trainee. She was a blonde, and looking right at me.

I eased myself to my feet, supported by the tree. The girl approached, her number clearly visible against the standard grey trainee uniform we all received. Her shirt was matted with sweat and dirt, as was her deep blonde hair. 130 was paraded just below her collar, just as mine, 057, was. She offered me a hand, which I accepted a bit of hesitation.

"Thanks." I mumbled quietly, straightening my twisted and wrinkled shirt. Trainee-130 nodded, and we both kept up with our climb.

We talked quietly, despite my own instincts telling me to shut up. I heard ruffling behind us, and we whipped around in an attuned sync. Another trainee popped into the little alcove amidst several, giant trees. 052 accompanied the small giant's own collar. We conversed quietly, sharing what little intel we had between us before we split up. We planned to meet at the edge of 01478-B and continue on from there. It wasn't easy, and I enjoyed playing tricks on the Marines. A whistle here, a thrown rock there, and they were severely agitated with me very quickly. Good thing I can hide better than they search. Being six came with a few advantages, like being able to hide in a tiny alcove under a tree. Four hours in now, and the sun began to disappear behind the clouds. I shimmied under the fence for the second time today, fresh scratches on my body. I yanked myself to my feet, exhaustion slowly taking its toll. 130 and 052 caught up to me a few minutes later, and we sat, catching our breaths. I looked at the other two trainees with me.

"Uhhh…" I was never good with people, but I hoped that didn't matter here, "…we never… introduced ourselves." I murmured quietly. The others laughed silently at the realization.

"Well." The boy spoke, his accent thick and bold, "I'm Jorge."

"Alice." Alice-130 had her own slight accent, which I had only noticed when she introduced herself.

"Jenna." Was my reply. We rested for a few moments longer, before we decided, unanimously and silently, to begin moving again. None of us wanted to know what the punishment would be if the CPO found out we slacked off. Although I, myself, am sure others had done the exact same thing as us. We were all only six. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't help but think of Linda. Normal never suited us. I mean, she ran an Intelligence network that got blackmail on teachers. And I may have been the prime collector of said blackmail, but it didn't make it any less fun to do. We helped each other over a thick tree. The ground around the collapsed tree was like a sludge. But it was slippery, like mud. After several failed attempts, and splashes of mud onto our already dirty clothing, we finally managed to get to a branch that had remained attached to the tree when it decided to block our path. Well, Jorge did, him being a head and a half taller than Alice and I's 3' 7" frames. It was odd, I'd decided a few days ago, that our families hadn't come looking. Maybe there was some kind of secret held against them, or a deal that had been made. Maybe we were already being mourned by our family and loved ones.

Oh how close I really was to the truth. I still I didn't want to believe what Hasley told us a month ago on our first day.

I grabbed onto Alice and Jorge's offered hands, allowing them to pull me over the log. A trail came into our sights a few moments later, yet a quick glance down it from a tiny bush, and Alice spotted a pair of Marines sitting on either side of the trail. Next to them were a pair of rifles, similar to what I'd seen some instructors use to calm some of the more, vulgar and rowdy kids of our group. I twisted and turned my head as much as my neck would allow, looking for safe, but quick passages that would get us through the thick foliage ahead. There were safe routes. Clear, but narrow and curving off to the flanks. The quick ones had mud, big puddles of stale water, downed trees and lots of clutter on the pathway. We debated, quietly amongst our odd group. We took a quick path, doing our best to avoid the mud and water. It worked, mostly. We pressed onward towards Camp Hathcock.

By the time the three of us arrived, we joined the third of the trainees already there. Alice and I hunched over to catch our breaths near a wall, while Jorge panted heavily, his finger laced and palms resting against his head. I took a quick look at the group. I easily spotted Linda's red hair, which had become streaked with mud, as had her clothes, hands and legs. She also had a very unclear, muddy face that I would have laughed at if we weren't in military training. I straightened my back, a low but satisfying pop. I grimaced from the unexpected crack. Camp Hathcock was surprisingly barren for being an active military base. Commanding Officer Mendez ushered everyone inside to get cleaned up and presentable. I, like many others, still remember the first day we arrived.

-Flashback: 1800 hours, September 23, 2517-

-S-057 PoV-

I was awake when the black dressed men from ONI arrived. My parents had been arguing loudly, making it a simple task for them to infiltrate my house relatively unnoticed. Like the naive child I used to be, I waved at them. Without a word, they scooped me up, placed an object in my bed, closed the door and left. We went the several hundred meters to their ship, where I fell asleep. The handlers had returned with Linda after. I woke up four hours later next to the redhead, her hand resting on my head. It was a comfort, I'd decided at the time, that would happen very little over the next few years. It wasn't something I wanted to go away.

Our handler, one Archibald S. Walker, a marine instructor, lead Linda and I both, pushing us along by the shoulder. We entered an amphitheatre, and two people standing on a stage. The first I recognized as the woman we indirectly encountered a couple weeks ago. Her dark hair was pushed behind her right ear, and wore a big white jacket with a name tag clipped on. The second was a tall man with black hair and a beard. He wore a black dress uniform, with several shiny, metal objects on the left of his chest. CPO Mendez. All the other children were put to sleep in big cylindrical tubes like back on the ship that brought Linda and I to this planet. A breach in orders, because Linda and I had experienced no such thing. The other children, neither of us had recognized. The dark haired woman stepped forward and took a breath.

"As per naval code 5812, you are hereby conscripted into the UNSC special project, codenamed: SPARTAN-II." A pause. Linda and I shrugged in reply. Neither of us liked our homes. Parents always fighting, arguing, or otherwise absent. Some tried to leave, only to be forced back by their handlers. It was a harsh reality, for someone our age, to be split from their family. There had to be an important reason for this.

"You have been called upon to serve. You will be trained, and you will become the best we can make of you. You will be the protectors of earth and all her colonies." I attempted to lean forward, only for Walker to pull me back gently. Some of the others sat straighter. Being a hero, I had mused, was how some interpreted it. No one but us, as far as we knew, had the luxury of being with a friend you've know from basically birth. The woman looked over to her right, and seemed to spot someone familiar. The boy had his number, 117, under the collar of his shirt, just like everyone else.

"This will be hard to understand, but you cannot return to your parents." Some tried to get away from the possessive grip of their handlers. I had frozen in place, finally realizing just how alone I felt with that simple statement. Linda seemed to ignore it, but offered a slim, comforting smile. It didn't have the effect she intended, but I returned it anyway.

"This place will become your home." Dr. Halsey continued, "Your fellow trainees will become your family now. The training will be difficult. There will be a great deal of hardship on the road ahead, but I know you will all make it." A lie, I figured easily. I had heard enough of them to sort each statement to truth or deceit. She knew not all of us would make it.

"Rest now, we begin tomorrow." She turned to the man beside her, "have the childr-… trainees, escorted to their barracks. Feed them and put them to bed."

"Yes ma'am." The CPO's rough voice commanded respect and obedience. "FALL OUT!" He had shouted at us. We all rose, some at the urging of the handlers. I took a quick once over of the other trainees. Some looked like they wanted to cry, but none did. I had a feeling, that whatever project this was going to turn us into, we were going to be some of the best soldiers in history. I felt Linda play with my hair as I fell asleep.

-Flashback end-

Linda was gently shaking my shoulder. My head bobbed back and forth as I looked at my redheaded comrade and friend.

"Dinner." She said simply. I absently noted, that in my memory musing, I'd cleaned up and changed, my short auburn hair neat, looking almost brown. We picked a table, and joined the current group. I noted each number of each trainee that was there, before introductions were passed around. Poking fun at others seemed to be a bit of a game around this group, and as such, continued during our entire allotted eating time. Even Linda got into it for a couple of jokes, before returning to her meal. 117, John, was conversing with three other trainees; 104, 087, and 034. Fred, Kelly and Sam. I pegged them as an immediate unit, but I could be wrong. I had been before. In the second week of training, we had to jump a small crevice. I misjudged and nearly fell in. Someone did, but they never attempted to recover the body. No one realized at first. The body wasn't found either.

Mendez called it a lesson.

* * *

-1439 hours, March 2, 2518-

-Military Reserve 01478-B, Reach, Epsilon Eridani II-

-Jenna-057 PoV-

I put my eye in the sight, viewing a target at fifty yards downrange. The rest of the range was set up for the exact same distance. I could hear our CO instructing and berating other trainees for their poor form. From the wrong stance, to the holding of the massive SRS99s that were bolted to the low, reinforced concrete wall in front of us. Learning of where to put my hand compared to where it was comfortable I found out the hard way. Mendez continuously hounded me until I got it correct. The message was clear: Do it right. The first time. Even in class with Déjà, when weapons came up, I was one of few who paid the closest attention, soaking in every detail, every advantage, drawback and how they worked after that incident. Only a handful of us seemed the most comfortable with the cumbersome rifle. Myself, Linda, Cal-141 and Victor-101 along with few others occupied the rifles. Several feet behind us, were other trainees, assembling and disassembling weapons on slabs of concrete and metal tables.

I could feel the CO's presence behind me, scrutinising my stance with a critical eye. He grunted and moved down the line, repeating the process, and sending several trainees to a nearby track to do 100 laps. A few moments and two clips of AM rounds later, Mendez's voice scolded and sent more trainees to the track, observing their cleaning, and reassembly of the MA series assault rifle. We had two, I remembered, the MA5B and MA37. I breathed out, and felt a small kick from the rifle into my shoulder. The shot went wide, like most of mine had so far, striking the second outermost circle of the spray paint cement target. The sniper instructor walked over. He was a burly man, dark skinned, with several noticeable scars from skirmishes on his face and bare arms. On his hand were fingerless gloves, and a missing pinkie from his left hand. His green eyes were calculating. Cold.

"Are you having an issue, trainee?" The man asked gruffly. I hesitated, before he prompted again. "Well…?" He asked, almost snarling.

"Yes, sir." I replied. The man grunted and motioned for me to take another shot. I did, and the result was the same. The man pulled me back from the stand. The heavy weapon tilted backwards, the barrel pointed into the endless sky. I finally took a look at the other targets. None were much better than mine. The man heaved a heavy, disappointed sigh. And then he began. Step by step he walked us through the process of improving. Unlike the other instructors, the man was persistently patient, and understanding, but hard and effective in his teaching method. With each magazine, our circle of bloom got smaller and smaller. When we had all breached the third outermost circle he sent us off to do laps. Nearly 2 hours and 88 laps later, Mendez formed everyone, and we began proper exercises. Normal routine: Jumping jacks, sit ups, leg lifts, then break. Followed by planks for 2 minutes and then push ups. We repeated this until dusk, when the training grounds lights began to turn on. After another fifty laps around the track, dinner was relatively quiet, everyone being tired from the rigorous and constantly demanding exercise. This exercise only increased as the weeks progressed, and, by the time 2519 came around, it picked up really quickly.

* * *

-2453 hours, July 12, 2519-

-Wilderness Training Preserve-

-Viery Territory, Reach-

-Jenna-057 PoV-

Our shuttle ride was quiet. This was our first exercise since the Camp Hathcock climb nearly two years ago. The training preserve was dark, and covered with a layer of fine, powdered snow. The bodysuits we were issued were not the most comfortable, but they were insulated and durable. It was perfect for our mission in the cold location. Mendez explained the exercise, the small piece of paper in our pockets finally being explained. They were maps. Each peice worked to get us to the extraction point. John went first, and he stepped off. No less than ten minutes after John had stepped out, I was up.

"057" Mendez called. I stood and saluted.

"Sir." My voice was firm, a radical change from how quiet I was when we first arrived. Halsey was right; these people are family. I was confident now, comfortable, with the people around me.

"You're up." The rear door opened to the cold, snowy air. "Good luck, 057."

Just like the others who jumped before me, I didn't reply and leapt down. I heard the ship move away as I reached out and snagged a branch of a tree with a grimace. I released it, and dropped to the ground, snow crunching under the suit's boots. I walked on, checking every edge around a rock, the bend of every tree, looking for any other trainees. I eventually found some footsteps and followed them, catching up with Jerome-092. I gave him a curt greeting and we picked up our pace. Others joined us as we continued on. Around an hour of searching, we got everyone together and placed our rectangular puzzle pieces together in the snow. Identifying extraction, we moved on. A full day from our position to extraction seemed easy, so we pressed on, tirelessly until dark the next day. John stopped everyone and beaconed for Kelly, Sam, Fred and Linda to follow him a short ways from the group. They returned a couple minutes later and relayed what information they found.

"Theres two targets. Standard UNSC equipment, but neither men are wearing uniform. We believe that they are rebels or insurrectionists." John briefed. No one bother to tell him that they were the same thing.

"What's the plan?" I voiced the, more than likely, most obvious question. John grinned.

"Well. We need to divert the two from the equipment. Jenna, that's where you and Kelly come in. As the fastest ones, your our rabbits. Lure them back here. Once you complete that, get to your places. Sam, your the second part of this. Act in distress. Wh-"

"Why am I the bait?" Sam cried, interrupting John.

"Because you act like that?" I jabbed good naturedly. Sam playfully glared at me and I grinned back.

"You know it. So, when the man gets close enough, Linda, strike him with a rock. If the other comes, we improvise." John laid it out, using a stick to draw it in the snow. Everyone agreed and dispersed when John gave them a hiding place.

I looked at the snow at the base of the tree next to me and gathered a handful. I smirked at Kelly, which she returned, and we moved just beyond the trees in view of the two chatting soldiers.

"We need help! Our friend is hurt!" Kelly exclaims.

"Hurry!" I urge, tossing the snowball. It smacks the bearded man in the chest, and he takes the bait, proceeding after us along with an urge from his superior. I run, round a corner and vault up a tree, sitting on a thick branch next to Linda. I stifle a giggle. The man appears, and Sam begins his act.

"Where's the girl?" The man asks. Sam has a knee up, leaning back on his forearms, acting injured. He hisses.

"I think I broke my leg." He moaned.

"Oh I got your broken leg right here, kid." The man began to approach with a batton ready in his right hand. Sam mimicked an owl and the man received a rock to the side of the head, courtesy of Linda. He crumpled like a sack of potatoes. She dropped down to the ground like a cat, and I follow, landing on one knee, rock clutched in hand.

"What the hell, Vince? One little girl too much to handle for you?" The other man exclaims. Sam imitates it again, and this time I got the first strike in. With a wince, my rock catches the guy in the groin, and he doubles over in pain. The others appear and Jorge strikes next, followed by Kelly, Alice, Jerome, Victor and the others. We group up and proceed away towards the shuttle from the unconscious soldiers. We all grin and share enthusiastic high fives as the ship lifts off and departs for base.

Immediately after landing, John reported to Mendez's office. Everyone else, myself included, changed, and got a much needed meal. Kelly and I tell the others about the baiting of the soldiers, and barely managing to keep a straight face after I mentioned hitting the first man with my snowball. Ah, the benefits of training and practise, I muse, grinning and nodding energetically along with the others. When John returns, his face is grim. He gives us the good news: his promotion to squad leader. The bad news… it shakes several to the very fibre of their being, myself included. Our newest and toughest mission so far?

Survive.

* * *

-Unknown Time, March 24, 2525-

-Medical Facility Endurance, Epsilon Eridani II-

-Jenna-057 PoV-

John was right.

We survived though, through the six years of non-stop, grueling, physically and mentally draining exercises, practise missions, and surprise alerts. And the difficulty kept going up. 100 became 150 and then 200 across the board of our regular exercises. The training changed our bodies to peak condition, as far as evolution would allow for 13 and 14 year olds. The snipers got untouchable for the moment, the CQB specialists got more unpredictable, and our squad leaders got more tactical, smarter, but continued to learn. We got faster, though Kelly and I still held a significant speed edge over the others. Much to my chagrin, however, she was still faster than I. But not by much. The CQB specialists like Fred and Sam, continuously strived to outdo the other, rarely succeeding and remaining tied. The same, however, could not be said of the sniper category. Linda began to learn Zen, a type meditation. Anyone who was a sniper participated in the mediation sessions. She did it more than I, and I didnt slouch it either, at least twice a day, Linda three. In terms of raw skills with the cumbersome SRS99 rifle, the margin between the best and the worst was not as small as it could have been, but no bigger than it needed to be.

When the instructors started moving target practise, each of us - the snipers - could smack three targets in less than six seconds with less than two months practise. Every competition, every exercise, was split by a point counter. The score was never a larger margin than 30 points. Not once, did Linda or I dip below the top five. Fred gave us a run for our money as well, regularly scoring less than 10 points from us. Once, Mendez, for his own amusement - a critical way of doing his own analysis - pit Linda and I against each other. We had tied that, much to the CO's surprise. These six years were nothing but a cake walk compared to what we were being prepared to go through when the time for augmentations came.

One by one, friends and comrades disappeared behind heavy metal sliding doors. Screaming always came a couple moments after. I watched Linda go. Several minutes later I was next. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. Medical personnel came in, wrapping pristine white bandages around my nose, the base of my chin and my forehead, wrists and ankles to prevent rubbing skin raw. They gently eased me back, clamping my arms and legs to the table. Taking a deep breath, I waited for the anesthetic for kick in. I was out quickly.

The grafting began first, and the screaming began again, just like the others before me. It felt like my bones were begin shattered to powder, vaporized and then replaced with steel. This was just the beginning. The enhancement injections came next. The pain was unbearable now. The grafted areas had begun to cool, just as the injections began. It was like being dissected peice by peice, and awake for it all. I could feel my body twitching... fighting to get free. Even deep in my mind, I couldn't escape it. The Catalytic implant was next. At the base of my neck, a drill entered, tearing through the skin and flesh, creating the crevice needed for the implantation. The drill connected with my spine, before it slowly withdrew. My nerves felt like I was going through an incinerator, and then the implant was placed. Not only was it like an incinerator ignited, with this it was like infernos covered every square millimetre now as my system painfully adapted around the implant. That doubled with the grafting and the injects that were just completed, and the drills and needles that injected more fluids behind my eyes. My body burned, bled, and ached and rebelled with pain. And then my spine was added to the mix. The neural shock pushed my body up as far as it could go. The neural fabrication was quicker though, but rewrote my entire nervous system. The nerves along my arms, legs, head and torso screamed in protest, burning and cooling over and over in seconds.

And then it was over.

Hopefully.

* * *

AN: I hope you all enjoyed Chapter 1. Please point out any and all grammar errors.


	2. First Contact

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Halo. I only own my OC

* * *

-Unknown Time, March 29, 2525-

-UNSC Heavy carrier Atlas, Lambda Serpentis System-

-No PoV-

Doctor Halsey reviewed the holographic list in front of her. 27 dead. 36 percent of all candidates. Children. One by one, she reviewed the spartans that had survived the augmentation procedures unscathed and without any kind of defect or disease. Samuel-034, Jorge-052, Jenna-057 and Arthur-079 all had slight irregularities in their augmentations. Samuel's surrounded his upper torso and arms, reinforcing his bones by a small percent more than the others, increasing his already impressive base strength. Jorge had the same thing happen in his procedure and it circulated in the same area. Arthur-079 had a small increase in muscle mass compared to the others, as well as strengthened bones like Samuel and Jorge, making him one the the strongest. Halsey took a look at Jenna-057's profile, and her eyes widened.

"Well now… that's not very good. Déjà get me Doctor Garcio please. Direct him here." Halsey ordered. Her voice had an edge to it. Like a mother bear protecting her cubs.

"At once, Doctor." Déjà winked out. Halsey continued to review the files as she waited for the man to appear.

-Jenna-057 PoV-

The dull beeping of a health monitor reached my ears, followed by the blisteringly white light hanging directly above my medical bed on the high ceiling. Fresh, barely healed scars were eloquently placed around my body. A circular one on each of my shoulders, and two lines that came to a stop just above my chest. Two long scars on both biceps and forearms, as well as two slightly jagged scars on my lower legs. Three criss crossed the underside of my forearms. My body ached and pleaded for me to lay back down and sleep. I refuse its wants and slowly swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I push my weight onto them, and as I expect, collapse to the ground with a frustrated growl. Using my hands, I pull myself to my feet, balancing on the medical bed. The edge creaks and groans under my grip, being pushed in against itself. My grip left clear dents in the soft metal.

"Jenna." A pair of strong arms envelop me in a friendly, but longing hug. My mind snaps itself awake immediately. With a smile of my own, I hug Linda back. "Heh, guess we both made it." I heave myself up onto my medical berth, slowly gaining control of my still trembling body. Linda sits on the berth opposite me, watching intently.

"How do you feel?" She asks. I know she knows, but I humor her anyway. I sigh,

"Like shit." I laugh dryly. "It's like learning to walk all over again now." Linda cracks a uncommon smile, nodding in agreement. "To think we're basically two times bigger than before." Linda hums in agreement.

"Here." She hands me a uniform. I look at her in slight confusion. "Something to wear. You were the last one to wake." She deadpanes.

"Where are we?" I ask, struggling with the shirt. Linda laughs at my expense before moving to help.

"UNSC Atlas. We were moved here to recover, train, and adapt." Linda offered. It took 10 minutes to get me dressed, something that definitely irked me. Even with the two of us. With the overshirt finally on, we left the medical room, heading to join the surviving spartans.

-UNSC Atlas, Halsey's Lab-

-Five minutes prior-

-No PoV-

Halsey barely glanced up as the door to her lab opened and Doctor Robert Garcio entered. He was a middle aged man, with graying hair and thick mustache. His lab coat was a pristine white. His hands buried in his pockets, green eyes alight with guarded curiosity.

"You requested to see me, Doctor Halsey." Garcio commented.

"Yes. I did." Halsey turned to the man and handed him a datapad. "Look at the readings of these four SPARTANs."

A momentary silence overtook them and Déjà as Garcio reviewed the statistics. The confusion was evident on his face, before Déjà pulled up the other surviving, healthy 29 SPARTANs. The good doctor clearly didn't see the problem even if it was staring him in the face as it was now. Unlike the other three, Jenna's muscle dosage was five millilitres above the requirement, the others were only two millilitres. Luckily this fact was off balanced by sturdier bones.

"You nearly killed one more of the SPARTANs. Or removed her from active duty if she tried to run. 27 are already deceased." Halsey growled, as Deja compared Sierra-057 to the other spartans. One by one.

"Doctor I-" Halsey interrupted him.

"No. I don't want to hear this. I told you, before this project even began, that a mismeasurement in anything could have catastrophic consequences. For you. But more importantly: The SPARTANs. And you just risked one of the best sharpshooters in the program. You're fired, doctor." Halsey snatched her pad back and turned away. Failure in this project was unacceptable. Garcio fumed, his face red and he stormed out.

-UNSC Atlas, Atlas corridors-

-Jenna-057 PoV-

Linda and I stepped off the lift. We could hear Halsey as we neared a corner. Pulling my companion against the wall, a very angry Dr. Robert Garcio exited Halsey's lab.

"-cking bitch…" He growled. I could hear his hand go into his pocket. "Did you get the list?"

"Yes. We did. We're carrying out attacks across the colonies on their parents as we speak. Is the girl dead?" A very strange, disembodied voice asked.

"Unknown yet. She's more than likely just woken up, sir." Garcio told the other man. My eyes widened and I turned to Linda, her face equalling mine. I pressed my finger to my lips, continuing to listen to the man speak. "When she tries running, that'll be the only way to tell. Welcker is still with the project. I'll be off the Atlas in a matter of hours."

"Good. If your calculations are correct, then we must prepare for them to come. In every way." The voice spoke again. "I suspect she'll go to Harvest or Arcadia in the near future. The Covenant is proving quite the powerhouse. When she is engaged planetside, make it an 'Accident', Operative Garcio."

"Yes sir. For the URF."

"General Graves, out." The now identified Graves ended the call. I peaked the corner, as he pocketed the device. Linda yanked me violently into a storage closet, roughly shutting the door. Gracio walked past and entered the elevator. After a few moments, the lift activated and we stepped out of the storage closet, nearly running over Halsey in the process.

"Spartans?" Halsey questioned, "Why were you in the closet?"

"Eavesdropping on Garcio, ma'am." I replied for the both of us.

"Ah. I see. I'm glad it wasn't something else." Halsey murmured. I groaned and rolled my eyes, while Linda looked away. "Oh, Jenna, I would like to speak to you after the ceremony in four days time, please."

I blinked, partially expecting this. "Affirmative, doctor." I nodded, and we parted our ways. Linda and I rounded the corner, making way to the other spartans.

"The doctor sure is…" Linda paused, before scrunching her face in thought.

"Interesting?" I supplied. We chuckled, before continuing on our way.

-UNSC Atlas-

-March 30, 2525-

-Jenna-057 PoV-

We were all silent, waiting for CPO Mendez to start. His gaze swept over all of us, one by one. Even now, he was still critical. But there was pride in his eyes as he looked upon his greatest accomplishment so far in his lengthy career. Yet the pride was at battle with sadness.

"Duty. Honor. Self-sacrifice. Death does not diminish these qualities in a soldier. We shall remember our dead. Honors, Attention!" Mendez ordered. As a well oiled machine, every single SPARTAN, even those that weren't standing - came to a rigid attention. People I knew and grew up with, that I laughed with, endured hardships with. Cried with. And all that's left in their absence?

A hollow heart.

The augmentations. Their own bodies betrayed them. What would it have taken, to have them standing, side by side with their brothers and sisters. Their family. I clenched my teeth, taking a quiet, ragged breath, holding onto those memories as my body auto piloted itself. My arm held its stiff salute with the others.

"We commit our fallen…" Mendez collected himself, "To space." He snapped into his own salute with the rest of us, as, one by one, the caskets launched from the side of the Atlas, the bodies of our brothers and sisters forever condemned to the endlessness of the void. I counted them all as they launched away with quiet explosions. 27 caskets. 27 comrades. 27 members of our already small family. And… despite all of our training, their deaths… affected everyone. Even Mendez. Even after the others dispersed, I hadn't moved from my spot. I watched the final resting place for a part of my family until even my augmented eyes couldn't see them any longer. I wasn't the only one to stay put. Jorge did. Jerome. Victor. Cal. Each of us did, and each of us stayed silent.

"I… I'm going to… the gym." I rasped out finally, holding back tears, slowly collecting my thoughts, my actions, feelings. But Halsey came first, and that's where I went. I saw the twelve SPARTANs who survived the procedure, but failed to fully accept them. I watched Serin as she turned, and gave the few of us that she could see, salutes. We all returned them. I lost myself in my own mind as I moved into the gym after my meeting with Halsey. My dress uniform was replaced with sweats and a tank top. I didn't leave for hours. John had the same idea as myself. He joined me only minutes after I walked in. I could feel my mind adapting, learning and understanding its new vessel already. We took turns benching. 100 reps, and then switch, increasing weight each time. We had started at 500 and the number kept going up. It was barely scratching the surface of what we could do.

We settled into a sort of routine. Even in the weeks during recovery. Our record for benching and lifting continued to grow. My meeting with Halsey before the time I spent in the gym was… unfulfilling. I filled her in on Doctor Welcker. The doctor, or rather, operative, Linda and I eavesdropped on, Garcio, and purposefully messed up my augmentations. So I took it easy. I started with laps around the gym, slowly increasing pace. My body adapted almost flawlessly to the purposeful attempt on ruining my life. And, under the careful watch of Mendez, Linda and Halsey, I got better. The hopes Garcio had of me pulverising my own leg bones was a thing of the past within several weeks.

I think I made Kelly jealous when we did races between the 33 of us. In sets of three we went, with CPO Mendez, the man who acted like a hardass, but caring father to us, timing. Each time everyone went through, times got faster and faster. I beat her sixty percent of the time. We all laughed, and cheered, celebrated. All in the name of family. Hell, we got Mendez to participate in the celebrations as well. How John got him to, I don't want to know.

Currently, I was pulverising reinforced punching bags, hitting them with powerful kicks and punches. John kept swapping between benching weights, the speed punching bag and dumbbells. I watched the gymnasium door open and three helljumpers walked in. Kelly took notice as well, stopping her laps around. No single spartan wanted conflict with the ODSTs after what happened the first time the separate branches met. We gathered our overshirts, and moved around the ODSTs towards John.

"He's gonna hurt himself. He knows that, right?" I whispered to Kelly. She smiled, stifling a laugh and shook her head. The bench weights were arranged for spartans, currently sitting at half a ton. And that was warm up weight. The bigger bar, easily 100 lbs and for weights over that half ton, rested on the floor below the bench. Bigger benching bars sat on the wall behind the dumbbell rack weighing up above 300 pounds.

"Oh no." Kelly's accent broke the fragile silence. The ODST's were moving on John.

"Kelly, go get Mendez. I'll hold John back as best I can. Go!" I hissed. We were fast. But we needed to be faster. The ODSTs surrounded John, and I watched his fists curl. Two grabbed him and a third went for a punch. I flipped the third man, as gently as I could, and pinned him against the ground, arms restrained behind his back. I pushed the man away, watching John deal with the other two.

"John, no!" I jumped at 117, pinning him down as he went to snap one's arm. "C'mon Spartan, control." I mumbled in his ear. It didn't last long, however, as the door opened again, and three more entered, along with a Sergeant. Antonio Silva. Antonio didn't like us. He made that clear a week after the ceremony when several spartans were training in the gym. We called it 'friendly first contact'. The sergeant blatantly turned his head away, and the Helljumpers moved to surround us.

"Your gonna pay for that, freaks." One growled.

"You're sergeant is a bitch, you know that, right?" I asked them. Silva heard and whipped around glaring. Good.

"Shut up, freak-bitch." He growled. I stiffened and wanted to lunge at him and crush his skill with my fist. While not the most creative of insults…

"Deal with them." Silva ordered loosely.

They charged and we met their strikes. I kicked one away, in the chest, lost in the rush of the skirmish. The dead man knocked over and landed on Silva. I flipped the other two that decided to go for me. With a growl, I snapped their arms, and turned around to watch John give a final killing blow to one of the Helljumpers with his fist.

And, in that moment, Kelly had returned with Mendez. We explained the situation. He commended us both. Me for trying to defuse the situation, initially, and John for defending himself and the life of his squadmate. I saw, from the corner of my eye, the helljumper sergeant looking at us in disgust, resentment and hatred.

I didn't care.

-1630 hours, September 12, 2525-

-En Route to Eridanus System-

-UNSC Pioneer-

-Jenna-057 PoV-

Six of us stood in the briefing room aboard the Pioneer. An orange hologram was projected from the circular holo-table. The doctor began her briefing.

"There's a mission ONI has been saving for the right team. Colonel Robert Watts earned his rank in the UNSC, but in 2512 he went turncoat. And now he leads the Insurrectionist forces in the Eridanus system. Watts has spent 12 years leading raids against UNSC targets, killing civilians and military alike."

All of us stiffened, fists clenched. If it was one of the things we took seriously, it was attacks on civilians. The black suits, developed from the ones we wore during training on Reach, were a better fit for our fully adapted bodies. Deep down, I knew, that we were excited for our first true test in a live fire situation.

"We have intel that Watts is planning to attack medical satellites in the outer colonies."

Mendez took over from here. "Recently, one of Watts' men cut a deal with ONI. We have known for some time that Watts' forces were launching from the Eridanus asteroid belt. There are millions of rocks scattered over billions of kilometers."

"Sir, how do we get there?" I asked in the brief pause. Halsey did her best to answer.

"Our informant did not know the exact location. However, he did know that the freighter, Laden, is a supply vessel. Mendez."

"Laden is set to leave dock in six hours for routine engine recertification. And yet she's been loaded with enough food and water to supply a small city. Spartans, you will be dropped at the Eridanus II space docks. You'll be dressed the same as members of the Laden crew. Once in the base, you will infiltrate the installation and take Watts alive. If you can."

John enlarged the hologram of the ship with a couple of hand motions, tilting it towards the rest of us. Sam, Kelly, Linda, Fred and I soaked in every little detail we could from the hologram. Mendez offered one last peice of advice. "Be prepared for anything. Finally, Squad Leader, you are hereby promoted to Petty Officer third class."

-September 14, 2525-

-Freighter Laden-

-Jenna-057 PoV-

"Ugh, I can never get shuteye before a mission." Sam complained. I growled.

"I was nearly asleep too, Samuel." I rolled to my side, facing him. Linda laughed at my misfortune.

"Whatever." Sam waved it off happily, "So… what are you doing?" He asked Kelly.

"Scanning freight and shipping documents." She replied.

"Read it to me. That'll to me to sleep." Sam moaned, lulling his head to the right.

"Ten hours out, Blue Team. We'll rotate sleep cycles." John ordered, arms crossed over his chestplate. I gave a quiet 'whoop' and rolled onto my back and shut my eyes, asleep seconds later. Id never expect that I was as tired as that. Asleep in not even a minute. Someone poked me a while later, and I instinctively latched onto it. The barrel of Linda's suppressed SRS. She had a cheeky smile before nodding at John and Fred, who began to converse.

"-crate of cigars, steaks and chocolates." Fred explained.

"Whoa whoa whoa. Someone fill in the sleepy scout please." I requested. Fred reiterated what he had told John, before picking up where he left off, "Luxury items."

"Well, we know where it's going." I stretched, popping my neck.

"Indeed. It's going to Watts." John nodded.

"Exactly." Fred agreed.

-Rebel Stronghold-

-Eridanus Secundus-

We packed up our makeshift camp, and pulled civilian clothing over our bodies. "We are so going to stand out." I complained.

"No we won't." Sam disagreed. John hushed us and beaconed to follow him.

"Crate is moving. Tallest building in this city." I reported, tracking the crate ViA tracer.

"Hmph. Only the best for this pompous prick." Fred huffed. I gawked at him before smacking his head lightly.

"Language boy." I scolded.

"I'm older than you." He deadpanned.

"Sure as hell don't make you smarter." I jeered back with a smirk.

"Hey! Hypocrite." He whisper-yelled. He was immediately shushed by John. He glared at me for a moment before we laughed quietly. Moments of tracking later, and moving silently from building to building, Kelly updated us. "Nav marker: 443 meters and holding."

"That's top floor. Helmets on, move out." John ordered, slipping his own on. I pulled mine over my head, and listened as it pressurized. Prying open the elevator doors, Sam went first, and then I followed, and then did everyone else. Sam placed an explosive on the door. When it detonated, Sam and I moved in, downing the first pair of enemies ever killed by a Spartan. Slowly we moved through the facility, becoming more and more comfortable in the middle of the fight. I swapped my SMG for my sidearm; an M6 magnum. In rapid succession I squeezed its trigger, dropping two rebels in the blink of an eye. Sam got caught in the open as a rebel popped up and sprayed at him. John tackled him, taking the hit instead.

"John!" The simultaneous call came from the rest of us. The insurrectionist was torn apart in a hail of lead, head turned into a bloody paste sprinkled on the wall behind him. The Petty Officer grunted, ordering the area secured. Kelly attended to his wounds with Biofoam.

"That was stupid, John." Sam's voice came over the comm, "Queen doesn't sacrifice everything to collect a pawn."

"All the pieces go back in the same box when the game is done."

"Alright enough!" I butt in. "Focus on the mission!"

"Right…" Sam sighed. He pulled John to his feet, and we proceeded towards the final room in the tower. Kelly and Fred tossed flashbangs through the door, disorientating the rebels for a few precious seconds. We stormed the room, and downed three of the seven rebels guarding our target. Seconds later the other four were down with several holes in their bodies. I approached the desk from the side, magnum holstered. Watts crept from behind the desk, pistol in hand.

"You won't take me alive." He placed it's barrel against his head, but Linda was quicker. She tapped her trigger, and the anti-materiel bullet obliterated the pistol and forced it away from Watts, a clean hole in the firing mechanism. I leapt from the shadows, and tackled the traitor to the floor, slamming cuffs on his hands.

"Empty the crate. Sam, load the cargo." John ordered.

"Get your hands off me boy." Watts growled at me. I growled back. "I don't know who or what you are, but none of you are leaving here alive. And there's no way in hell I'm getti-"

I slammed my pistol into his head, rendering him unconscious. "Shut up, jackass. I ain't a dude." I scowled.

"Language, spartan." Fred scolded. I shook my head at him, making a show of sticking out my tongue like a child.

-November 2, 2525-

For the next several weeks, we didn't get to go back to Reach, to our family. As we exited the pelican, a man stood alone in the hangar.

"Who's that?" John asked.

"Uniform says Keyes." Sam replied, "Maybe he's here to interrogate Watts?"

"Doubtful Sam." I deflated his argument. He was familiar. "Hey, Linda. Does that guy look…?"

"Familiar? Very." She nodded. We sat down in a small circle, waiting for John to finish. I caught Keyes walking away from John, but didn't see Mendez.

"-was behind an overturned desk." Kelly told Sam. "You entered in blindly. At least no one is too hurt." She sighed.

"Amphitheater, Spartans! On the double." Mendez's voice echoed in the pelican bay.

"Yes sir." Came our reflective and immediate response. We joined the rest of our comrades in the very room that held our program introduction all those years ago, with some slight changes. It was darker, cleaner. We sat, the rest of the spartans whispering around us.

"What do you think it is? Insurrection revenge strike?" Fred asked.

"If it was, wouldn't we have been redeployed by now?" I countered.

"No. It's something else." John said. "Something big."

"How big?" Sam asked.

"Unknown." was the Chief's reply.

"At ease, Spartans. I am Vice Admiral Stanforth." The grey haired man introduced. All level of talk disappeared in the big room, and all 33 pairs of augmented eyes trained themselves on the veteran naval officer. "This is Harvest. Population: 3 million." An image of the planet came up. The white of the clouds, green of land and the deep blue of the water could be seen clearly through the holographic image.

"A peaceful and productive farming world." Stanforth continued. "On February 3rd, at 1423 hours, the Harvest orbital platform made long-range radar contact with this object. After that… all contact with Harvest was lost. Command assembled a battlegroup." Three UNSC ships appeared. Two frigates and a destroyer. Our attention fell upon the small battlegroup.

"What they found was all that was left of Harvest." The image of the planet changed. It was black, and burning. Massive craters dotted the planet, and there was barely any visible blue, or green. Any and all clouds from the previous image were gone. My eyes widened. Was this what Garcio mentioned with Graves, I asked myself, the threat?

"Three million lives lost. The colony was burnt to ash. Power like humanity has never seen. Then… they encountered this." An image appeared, similar to the one showed from the scans of the Orbital Platform. It was purple, long and sleek. And it easily dwarfed the small, three ship battlegroup that FLEETCOM had sent. The scene changed again. A small debris field. "It destroyed the Vostok and Arabia in under a minute, using highly advanced weapons and impenetrable shielding."

The room was deathly silent. Shielding? That was a new term, but everyone knew what it meant. We couldn't touch the other ship. Not effectively. "The Heracles escaped into slipspace with substantial damage, and brought this intel back." Stanforth was livid, and us spartans could read him like a book.

"They will not negotiate, they will not communicate. They cannot be reasoned or bartered with." Stanforth's face was one of carefully stroked anger, hate and vengeance. "Humanity will fight back. We've already seen that we cannot do it with the blunt instrument of a fleet. We need the surgical precision of a scalpel." Stanforth turned to us. "The SPARTAN program is that scalpel. We received a message before the attack in UEG base English. Play the message, Beowulf."

An image appeared. Blue background, black figure up front. The message played: "Humans, your destruction is the will of the gods. And we are their instrument." The voice was raspy, old and 100% alien. I sucked a breath. It was like I could feel the hate, the anger and the self-righteousness of this being in the recording. It was so sure of itself, that we could be crushed quickly. I felt anger bubble into rage and hate. And revenge for the three million lives lost on Harvest. The image slowly faded to black.

"Spartans." Halsey spoke once the message finished, "In one standard week, we will be going to Chi Ceti IV aboard the frigate Commonwealth. Dismissed."

-November 6, 2525-

I was happy we had all recovered by the middle of November. Every single SPARTAN spent that week training, reading, learning and preparing. The war was official now. It was do or die. We knew that we were the most important weapon the UNSC had at it's disposal. Very little was known about the alien vessel as a whole. The Heracles returned with plasma scoring all along it's hull. Video footage of the engagement showed just how outclassed our ships were. And with no visible ground combat from Harvest, we were left in the dark about those forces that the Covenant possessed.

I tilted my head into my hands, grabbing at my thin hair. Will-043 sat down next to me, a silence enveloping us.

"Alright, what's wrong?" Will asked after a moment.

"I knew." was my reply. "The day Garcio was removed from the project, I knew."

"About this? The aliens?" I nodded in reply.

"Yes. He called them Covenant. He spoke with a innie named General Graves about it." I shook my head. I had spent the past two days without sleep, trying to learn everything I could.

"Get a few hours of shut eye, then talk to Mendez or Halsey." Will suggested, giving me a friendly a pat on the back before standing and leaving me alone.

"Yea…" I mumbled. Instead of sleeping, I hunted for Mendez and told him everything I had heard since Garcio was removed. I didn't enjoy it in the slightest, and the thought of Garcio's attempt on our lives filled me with rage. Mendez soaked in every detail I gave him, and began walking with Halsey when she appeared. I went the opposite direction, and vented my anger out in the gymnasium, where I managed to fall asleep against a wall.

-November 27, 2525-

-UNSC Commonwealth, En Route to Chi Ceti IV-

-Jenna-057 PoV-

I woke up in my bunk, in time to see the others. Linda was sitting on the edge of my bunk, apparently having decided to keep me company. I took comfort in that. It happened little during training, but I embraced every instance either of us did it. Meanwhile Sam and Kelly sparred. Fred hung from the top of his cryo chamber, doing sit ups. Kelly flipped Sam over her, and onto the floor.

"Agh! Damn it!" Sam groaned, laying on his back.

"You're… still dropping… your shoulder." Fred grunted out between sit ups.

"I know." Sam groaned again. Kelly helped Sam to his feet. "Lets go again." She offered.

Before they got the chance, John entered the room. Everyone immediately hopped to attention, standing in a orderly semi circle in front of the Petty Officer. "Does Project: MJOLNIR mean anything to anyone?" He asked.

"Gotta be some kind of weapon." Fred surmised. "Brass isn't very imaginative with codenames."

"While I agree with part 2, your first makes no sense, Fred." I shook my head, placing my hands on my hips. "We're spartans. Would it make sense for us to fight in suits that are barely rated for zero G, or plasma? I say it's armor."

"Spartan-117 report to the bridge." Halsey's voice was quiet over the small intercom terminal in the wall next to John.

"Yes ma'am. Sam, get everyone ready. On the double." John ordered, leaving the cryo room.

"You heard the Petty Officer: Dog the distractions and into uniforms, Spartans." Sam relayed. The ship jolted and shuddered. Explosions reverberated throughout the ship structure. The Commonwealth was moving, spinning as we rushed into the dropship. Even through the deck of the pelican, we could feel a shudder. And then a second.

"MAC rounds." Kelly guessed. No one responded. John and Halsey appeared a moment later. The bay door closed, and the three Pelicans, with all spartans aboard, left the hangar. Through the small rear viewport on the pelican, we could see the Commonwealth. She was venting through multiple decks, while the Covenant cruiser was smoking beneath its shield. Clearly the Paris-class frigate could damage it. The ride was quick, and the bumps the pelican hit were barely even noticeable. The dropship beneath our feet shuttered as it touched down on Damascus testing facility landing pad number four. Halsey led us inside, down a long elevator ride, to a room not much smaller than the amphitheater on Reach.

"This…" Halsey gestured to the middle of the room. Two giant yellow rings surrounded a presently retracting gate in the floor. "...is project: MJOLNIR". Six suits rose from the ground, and I elbowed Fred.

"Told you it was a suit." I gave him a cheeky grin. He rolled his eyes in response, but smiled nonetheless.

"The armor's shell is a multilayer alloy of remarkable strength. An onboard computer connects with your neural interface to continually track tactical information. And the inner structure is composed of a new reactive metal liquid crystal that is amorphous, yet fractally scales and amplifies force." Halsey explained, pride evident.

"Ma'am, so you're saying this exoskeleton enhances both the wearer's strength and speed?" Fred confirmed.

"Yes, 104, by a multiple of five." Halsey nodded slightly with a smile.

"Sign me up." Sam exclaimed.

"Hell yes." I grinned, gazing over Sam's shoulder at the suits. Olive green, and christened with our respective spartan numbers.

Linda, however, brought our moods down a peg. "And the drawbacks, ma'am?"

"This system is so reactive, that our previous tests with unaugmented volunteers ended in failure. The amplified movements broke their bones, tore their muscles. Their own agony-induced spasms killed them. But you are not normal humans. Your enhanced musculature and skeletons should be enough to allow you to harness the armor's power."

" 'Should be', ma'am?" I asked next. Linda's own concern sparked mine.

"We've hadn't a chance to use it with spartans, 057." Halsey stated. "Now, I'll need a volun-" John interrupted her.

"I'll do it. I'll be first." John stepped forward.

"I thought you might." Halsey stepped toward the foremost suit, with an ever obvious '117' on the left of the breastplate. Techs appeared, ready for Halsey to let them help. John was suited in five minutes and placed on a metal, medical-like berth, angled at the ground. He moved slowly as Dr. Halsey explained the rest of the armor to us.

"C'mon man, you got this." Sam urged, eyes tight. Every other spartan, the techs, even Halsey watched on, pleading for this to work. I stood slightly behind Linda, watching every twitch, every subtle movement the Petty Officer made. With a metallic clang, John stepped off the berth.

"It's lighter than I expected." Halsey was waiting with his helmet.

"Easy now." Halsey reached up, and John leant forward, allowing the brain behind the spartans to crown the very first. "Well, how does it feel?" She asked as the helmet sealed around John's head.

"Like I was made to wear it, ma'am." Came his confident, but slightly slurred response through the helmet's filter. One by one, the techs suited every one of us up. Linda and I were the first on the range, snipers locked and loaded. We glanced at each other through the polarized visors. My grin was gleeful. I couldn't wait to see how the armor performed, and what it could do. We fired, shattering the first target. We kept going. In less than three seconds, the magazines were empty, and we shared high fives. Eight targets, in three seconds. A new, tough record.

"It feels… natural." I commented, watching Fred jump over a several meter high obstacle. One by one we cycled through each training exercise. Obstacles, specially built treadmills, strength tests. Everything to put us - and the armor - through our paces. Were it not for the numbers on our breastplates, you could tell almost none of us apart. But each helmet was tailored to its wearer, while keeping the same design. Linda and I had large, 25 meter motion trackers. Fred had extra knife sheaths in his shoulder pauldrons. Sam had slightly bigger field of view than the rest of us through his helmet. John had an increased tactical readout, being linked as a squad with us all. We surfed through the features, adjusting our Huds. Every spartan shared, what was quickly called the 'Spartan' communications line. It was dubbed, and renamed as such. The helmet ran diagnostics and acquired our service information from our neural implants. But we had no shields. I hoped it wouldn't matter but I asked Halsey anyway.

"Doctor." I waited for her to turn. A moment later she did, as well as John.

"Yes, spartan?" Halsey addressed.

"What do we do in case of suit breach?"

"Ah yes. Doctor Sorvad." Said man walked over, an object in hand. A case. He handed it to me. Popping the seal, several pieces of equipment greeted my eyes through the golden visor.

"A peice of plating used in the suits' construction, as well as appropriate tools to fuse it to the armor. This, however, is only temporary. The fusing wont be strong enough for lasting combat in space. You have roughly 2 hours to get into a pressurized zone before this falls off the armor." I nodded and closed the case.

Sorvad took it and gave me a smaller one. It wasn't any bigger than the mid section of a pair of rocket tubes for an M-41 launcher. John gathered the rest, and techs handed out one breach kit to each Spartan. The magnetic strips on our backs clamped the case with audible bangs. Every spartan had their chosen weapons mounted on top of the case, and on the powerful magnets on their thighs.

"Spartans. This is what we trained our entire lives to do." John addressed us all. Even if we couldn't hear him clearly through his helmet, his baritone voice eclipsed that through our comms. "If we lose here, we lose everything. Let's send our own message."

"Sir yes sir!" Everyone yelled in synchronization. Captain Wallace of the Paris-class frigate in orbit above us called Halsey, reporting the return of the Covenant ship. John, in the most professional way possible, begged the Doctor to let us, all of us, take a shot.

"Godspeed, John. To all of you." Halsey chose not to argue. It wouldn't be worth the cost of their only obvious way off planet.

"Let's move Spartans!" John surged towards the facility entrance, towards the pelicans, every last one of us hot on his heels. Apparently the base had a stock of Nukes, because the warheads were carefully placed inside of five pelicans. Six, and in the case of three of the pelicans, seven, spartans loaded into the birds. There were no naval pilots, but spartans instead, eased their birds into the air, well aware of the highly volatile cargo they carried. Quickly the clumsy and cumbersome dropships broke atmosphere. Sam began to voice his opinion on the current mission.

"Sam, quit whining you big baby." I groaned, my head making contact with the headrest behind me. Blue team, except Sam, chuckled.

"I'm just saying, you could have volunteered Red Team instead."

"Aw, you know we'd be more than happy to do so, Sammy. But that means we'd get all the glory." Douglas, Red three pipped over the comm. With everyone linked by comm, the laughter was nearly deafening. Even John joined into the fun.

"You want me to pull over? Let you out right here?" He asked, his voice a mix of joking and dead seriousness. The laughter started up again.

"In Mendez's words: It's a long walk home." Fred interjected, laughter in his own statement.

"Well done, Sammy." William-043 cackled over the comm. The current speaker, or speakers were popping in and out below the comm channel icon at the top left corner of my hud. "The first spartan to not wanna do a mission. On his first official one."

"Wha-hey! I never said that!" Sam howled.

"Yes you did!" Linda deadpanned, enjoying her teammate's embarrassment.

"No one will fault ya, Sammy." Alice, red-two, cooed, "You'll just be… the odd one out."

"Yea yea yea. I get it." Samuel growled. "I trust you guys and everything, but how are we supposed to take on a Covenant ship in a Pelican? Drown them in our blood?"

"I was thinking, the Commonwealth's Pelicans, and the ones from Damascus, are carrying these very helpful nukes." John, Kelly and Sam stepped out from the cockpit.

"Nukes won't even scratch em." Fred shook his armored head. I watched, before another spartan voiced what I was thinking.

"What about from inside? I bet those things aren't rated for that!" Arthur-079 popped over the spartan channel.

"That's right. We can't beat them with brute force, remember? Scalpels, surgical precision." John typed in a passcode on a terminal screen, opening the Havok locker. "Spartans, get your nukes." John ordered everyone.

"Yes Sir." Came the reply from Jerome, Margaret, Jorge and Cal.

"All pelicans on autopilot." Fred reported. Even across comms, the audible sounds of weapons readying came up. Slides, bolts and smacking of magazines into their holders.

"Red Team, ready." Jerome.

"Black team, green." Margaret.

"Green team. Go to good." Cal.

"Omega, ready." Jorge.

"Blue team is saddled and ready, sir." Fred reported.

"You heard this plan? And we're still doing it?" Sam asked.

"Do you have a better idea?" I asked, pulling the bolt of my SRS, before attaching it to the clamps on my back. I readied my pistol next and magnetized it to my thigh.

"Check repair kits." Jerome ordered to his team, but everyone heard it.

"Do as the man says, spartans." John confirmed. It took a little over five minutes for every spartan to double and triple check their kits.

"I love this plan." Fred commented. The bay door lowered.

"As do I." I nodded.

"I love it too." Linda and Kelly agreed.

"Could be worse." Jorge muttered. I poked my head out the bay door, spotting the other four Pelicans on our left.

"John, if we miss…?" Kelly wondered.

"We won't." John shook off her worry. The Pelicans turned, giving every single one of us a view of the Covenant ship. Big, purple and menacingly powerful. One by one, we filed out of the Pelican. Green, Red, Black and Omega followed suit from their own. Each team fell into a wedge formation. The jets in the armor propelled us at several hundred kilometers an hour towards the Covenant ship. With subtle adjustments to our trajectory, the Commonwealth came into view as well.

"The turrets. The shields have to IRIS for them to fire." Kelly realised.

"If we time this right, we're behind their shields." John agreed. "Red, your with us. Black, Omega, Green take the other side. We rendezvous somewhere in the middle."

"Roger that Chief." The synonymous reply came across the channel within seconds of its issuing, the seven spartans of Red had formed on us. Omega, Green and Blacks' formation of 20 spartans zipped over top of us silently. They moved quick and navigated to the opposite side of the cruiser. I breathed hard in my helmet. The blue hud reflected against my face.

"Two hundred klicks, chief." I updated.

"Roger blue-four." Chief acknowledged. "All teams ready." On the far side, all the tags of the other twenty spartans appeared on our huds. A beep hit our screens and the teams slowed and condensed into smaller formations, turning into high velocity cones of high tech armor and determined teenagers. We weaved and dodged, avoiding the deadly hailstorm of plasma from the cruiser. The Commonwealth fired its MAC one more time. The round impacted, and the shields of the alien ship shattered.

"All spartans. Board that ship. Now." John's order came in. We pushed faster, and collision warnings blared in our helmets.

"Mag boots!" John cried. After three minutes of waiting, everyone was gathered at the MAC round opening the Commonwealth's second shot had made. We proceeded in, and split up. The other three teams went down a deck as Red joined us.

"I need intel." Chief ordered.

"I've got Cherenkov radiation readings from all over the ship." Kelly offered.

"Could be anything." John warned.

"We're getting them, too." Cal reported it. Margaret reported the same thing.

"Largest is coming from the middle. Im guessing the reactor." Jorge put his own in.

"Well, lets blow these bastards apart then." Douglas pumped his shotgun's grip, chambering an 8 gauge shell.

"Calm down, trigger happy." I tapped the spartan's shoulder pauldron with my armored knuckles as we walked the blue lit halls.

"Sam, Jenna, Jerome and Douglas, take point. Kelly, Linda, Alice, Mike, Adriana take middle. Fred, Jai, and Grace, with me. We have the rear." Without another word, our mini platoon of 13 spartans moved through the ship. I moved against a purple wall. The blue lighting illuminated the olive green of my armor. Around the corner, a pressure door. My breathing was loud in the confines of my pressurized helmet. Four different glowing blue pentagons sealed the door from all sides. We moved up to it, keeping formation. I looked around at the other spartans. Jerome and I were slightly ahead of Sam and Douglas, who held our flanks. Linda and Mike had left, while Alice and Adriana had right, Kelly occupying the middle. John and Grace took the middle, while Fred and Jai held the flanks at the back. Kelly unlocked the door, and with rifles raised, the thirteen of us moved through.

"Chief, I've got the others on motion." I informed.

"Roger that. Spartans, fall in." John ordered over the spartan line. We moved, and the blips moved, all within the same second. They appeared off to our sides and melded into the formation. It shifted, with the Leaders that had the nuclear payloads taking up the rear. Jorge joined the front to my left, as did Margaret. The door ahead of us seemed ominous. However, just before the door, a five foot, chubby alien appeared. It was orange, had a dull silver breather on its face and two beady eyes. It had a tank on its back and a weird pistol in its fat, scaly hand. When it spotted us its eyes widened with comical fear and it freaked. Its breather expelled methane gas, and it fired it's plasma weapon. It's rounds struck my armored chest I stumbled back down to a knee in surprise, dropping my sniper in the process. Everyone who could, opened fire on the little alien. I gasped and clutched at the armor.

"Blue-four report." John ordered, crouching in front me. Linda squatted to my right, her hand on my shoulder.

"...Not good…" I took a breath with a head shake. The plasma stung. "Armor breach... That shit stings, sir."

"Roger. Collect samples. Tissue, armor, weapons. Anything." John ordered to the others, pulling the armor kit from my back, and, with help from Jerome and Victor, set about repairing the breach in my armor. After about 10 minutes, it was patched, and repaired. Placing it on my back again, I climbed to my feet.

"Green, sir." I nodded. It still stung, but it wouldn't hinder me. I hope.

"Let's move, spartans." John ordered. We proceeded, onwards, and I switched with Alice, taking her spot on flank. The recovered items from the alien were placed in the unit on Jorge's back.

"Contact." I warned the others. My sniper was trained on a spot in front of me. "I've got three on thermal. Our height, cloaked."

The weapons of the front four, and flank four, as well as the ones in the middle trained on the alien. The others moved for a clear firing line. It decloaked, giving us a good look at it. Blue armor, four mandibles and rows of sharp teeth. A weapon in its hand activated. A twin bladed sword. Roughly four feet long, and made of pure energy. Another two appeared the exact same as the first, with the same weapon. The only change was one had reddish armor, while another had white. With a guttural roar, they charged.

"Bring them down!" John ordered. All 33 weapons opened on them. Shields flared and flickered around the alien, and a plasma round caught Sam. He fell back with a shocked cry. The split lip bastards never got close to us. The red one had the strongest shields, but ate no less than six of Anti-Materiel rounds from the group's snipers, including one from me. Linda popped a round through its skull in the half second after its shields fell.

"I'm okay." Sam groaned.

"Two breaches. Fan fucking tastic. Damn split-lips." I glowered at the dead aliens. I approached them with Jorge, Linda, Mike and Alice. "They had shields. And cloaks. ONI's going to love this." Jorge commented. I grunted, rolling one to its back and I pried open the back panel of its armor. My hud told me it was unknown. My instincts told me it was the shields and cloak. "Got the shields. And the cloak...?" I picked out an object just below it. It was silver, and oddly shaped, like a bean.

"We got the same." Jorge reported.

"Three for three." Mike agreed.

"Bring them all." John ordered. "Is that breach covered and secured?" John asked. I gathered the three cylindrical objects they had held.

"Affirmative." Jai nodded, helping Sam up. Margaret handed the spartan his weapon, which he took with a nod. Jorge pulled the containment unit from his back, and placed all of which we scavenged from the dead split lips and mushy alien inside.

"Careful with these. Don't cut yourself." I warned the friendly giant, placing the three hilts in the containment unit.

"All secure, sir." Jorge informed Chief, placing the unit on the back of his armor. Five minutes more, and our group of 33 spartans entered the reactor room.

"This is the source of the radiation spike." Kelly affirmed. Cal confirmed it as well as several others.

"Alright. Squad Leaders, place and arm the wa-"

"Contacts!" Jorge opened fired with his mobile turret, immediately downing two of three. These ones looked like birds and had personal, disc-like shields. The group scattered, carefully rolling and dodging each plasma shot from the foul bird. Linda popped out and nailed the last one through the eye.

"I'll seal the door. Finish arming those warheads." I watched Kelly sprint from cover, aware of the beeping that the other Squad Leaders were making on the Nukes. I looked back and watched Jorge placed and armed his just below the edge of the platform. He was being certain that we succeeded. I turned back and fired through the door, and got rewarded with a guttural roar of pain. The spartans of Omega littered Anti-personnel mines and sensor explosive around the door, and then welded it shut. Victor scavenged the pistols and personal hand-held shields, and placed them in Jorge's containment unit.

"Bombs are set. Let's move Spartans!" John ordered. We began moving, taking a side door while the main one was blown open. "Five minutes spartans!" The timer appears on our huds, and we pushed ourselves faster. Adrenaline surged through my body, and time seemed to slow. I could see each armor movement, each transfer of weight, in slow motion. We barreled through the doors.

"Hangar!" John pointed out. "Prep for EVA!" And we did, on the move at more than 30 miles an hour, dodging plasma fire from the aliens. One by one, withinside of 20 seconds, we were out of the ship, and outside its barely recharging shields.

3…

2…

1...

Behind us, the Covenant ship was turned to atoms from the combined power of five Havok warheads.

We had succeeded. For the first time in the war. We showed the the entirety of Humanity that we could win. That we could stand and fight, and push them back. They were as mortal as us. And we were ready.

Now… these aliens, this Covenant, had something to fear.

And we were just beginning.

* * *

AN:


	3. Defense of Circinius IV

_**Chapter 3**_

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own halo. I only own my OC

* * *

 **-November 27, 2525 -**

\- Above Chi Ceti IV-

-Jenna-057 PoV-

It took less than five minutes for our Pelicans to come back and pick up each Spartan team. And not 10 minutes after the Pelicans pressurized and began towards the heavily damaged Commonwealth, did the welds on the temporary armor repair plate crumble way and separate from my armor. It clattered against my leg, before sliding with a 'thunk' against the metal floor of the dropship. Sam's own temporary repair came off as the pelican shuddered and touched down against the floor of the hangar. One by one, each of us exited the pelicans. The greeting from surviving crew members brought a slim smile to my face, obscuring by the golden visor. My breath was deafening in my own helmet. Like a parade line, in rows of three, we marched through the hangar and up into the main deck of the ship, towards the armory. I waited patiently as the techs removed my scorched and damaged armor. I shook my head as I stepped out of the soul of the armor's boots.

"Spartans, report for debriefing. Immediately." Captain Wallace's baritone, but steely voice blared over what remained of the Commonwealth's intercommunication system.

Only a handful of us were out of our armor by now. Those that weren't merely followed along, like an escort to the rest of us. We marched, footsteps in a practiced march with each other. We were silent, even as we entered the conference room that held our debrief. Captain Wallace, Doctor Halsey as well as Vice Admiral Stanforth, who joined the debrief Via a terminal screen, waiting for our arrival. Stanforth merely looked up, while the Captain and Doctor had to turn. We stood in a double half circle, my armored comrades standing behind myself and the ones already out of their armor.

"I believe a measure of congratulations are in order, Spartans." Stanforth complimented. We all shared proud glances with each other. Any other celebration we wanted to make at that moment, we saved for later. Sam tapped me and nodded and the admiral. He was giving us, all of us, approving glances. "Your report, Spartan-117?"

John stepped forward, his head held high as he looked at the adults. "Yes, sir. At approximately 1930 hours, we entered the Covenant ship. I ordered movement in groups. Blue and Red teams moved on the deck we landed in while, Omega, Green, and Black went to the deck below us. The second group, led by Spartan-052 joined up with us after around an hour of searching through the vessel."

Jorge then began his own explanation. As he had his helmet with him, Jorge played the video recorded by his helmet. I winced when it showed the small alien and it's hostile first encounter. I placed a loose fist where the plasma struck with a quiet hiss. The footage snapped over to Jorge's right, just as I stumbled back and my rifle clattered down in surprise. The sound of gunfire immediately filled the audio receivers in Jorge's helmet, and the camera returned to the alien. The little thing staggered and fell back with a gurgle.

" _Blue-four, report._ " John's voice surged through the receptors on Jorge's helmet.

"… _Not good… Armor breach. That shit stings, sir._ " My own voiced followed after.

" _Roger. Collect samples. Tissue. Armor. Weapons. Anything._ " John's voice was laced with a hint of malice and anger, easily identifiable through the recording. Several Spartans passed Jorge as the man approached the chubby, scaly alien.

" _Green, sir._ " I'd reported to John. It was weird, to be heard through a comm unit.

" _Let's move, Spartans,_ " John ordered. The camera started to move again, following Jorge's every twitch his helmet made. Jorge was the first through the next door, before, once again, I halted everyone's progress.

" _Contact. I've got… three on thermal. Our height, cloaked._ " Immediately, all our weapons were raised, and Jorge's chaingun filled half the camera. The aliens appeared, a second time to us Spartans. Four mandibles, big bodies, different colored armor and all carrying the same weapons. They ignited their twin bladed swords and charged.

" _Bring them down!_ " And we did, but Sam caught a round in the chest, as I had, and fell back. Six vapor trails brought the red one down, and the engagement was over less than five seconds after it began.

" _I'm okay._ " Sam groaned.

" _Two breaches. Fan-_ fucking- _tastic. Damn split-lips._ " I echoed again. Jorge approached the white one with Alice. It was filled with holes, some going right through.

" _They had shields and cloak. ONI's going to love this._ "Jorge's armored fist tore open the back panel, and his hud, like mine had, labeled them as unknown.

" _Got the shields and the cloak…_ " My voice was unsure.

" _We got the same,_ " Jorge reported.

" _Three for three._ " Came Mike's voice.

" _Bring them all,_ " John ordered. " _Is that breach covered and secured?_ ". Jorge pulled the storage unit and we gently placed the objects into the unit.

" _Affirmative,_ " Jai-006 spoke. I approached again seconds after, grabbing Jorge's attention with a shoulder tap. Jorge's helmet turned towards my hands which held the objects.

" _Careful with these. Don't cut yourself._ " I dropped the cylinders in. No more than five minutes later we were in the reactor room. After a painful few moments of fighting and scavenging and target calling, John ordered everyone out.

" _Bombs are set. Let's move Spartans! Five minutes!_ " John ordered and informed us in the recording. Just like my own, Jorge got a five-minute timer. We barreled through several doors, firing at any and all aliens we saw. Jorge's camera caught a glimpse of a floating, pink, purple and blue alien. It wasn't armed.

" _Hangar! Prep for EVA._ " John ordered a final time. Once out of the ship, Jorge looked back in time to see the final spartan, Margaret, exit the covenant ship. The countdown timer on Jorge's hud beeped from three to zero, and a bright explosion in a bluish orange color filled the left side of the camera.

The camera recording ended shortly after that.

Jorge silently retrieved his helmet and retook his spot in the lineup. The adults spoke amongst themselves, and we waited, patiently, for our new orders. Stanforth nodded, agreeing with something Halsey or Wallace had said to him. They turned around a few moments later.

"Spartans. Here is where you part ways. Once the Commonwealth returns to Reach, you will receive your reassignments." Stanforth said, "I will require a list of units, as well as the Spartans in those units, Doctor."

"Yes, Admiral." Halsey nodded.

"Spartans dismissed." Stanforth's hologram winked out.

"Jorge, when we return, I'll take those devices to ONI. And hopefully, they provide us with an edge." Halsey spoke again.

"Affirmative, ma'am." Jorge nodded his armored head.

We snapped salutes to Halsey and Wallace before the mismatched group of Spartans split. The unarmored Spartans, including myself, went to our bunks in the cryo rooms, while the others, including Kelly and Linda, went to get their armor removed. We stepped into our assigned quarters, and I somersaulted into my bunk.

"Hey, look at this." Sam's voice piqued John, Fred, and I's attention. There was a rack in the room. The weapons each spartan had used in our first engagement against the covenant was there. They were split into small, open-aired magnetic cubbies. Each Spartan tag for blue team was on there, organized by number. Sam, me, Linda, Kelly, Fred, and John.

"Oooo, yay," I commented dryly. "Will they move our armor in here next?"

"I hope so." Fred chuckled, "It would make their lives simpler, wouldn't it?"

"Pfft, you wish." Sam shook his head. "They'd have to teach us how to take the armor off, and in which order."

"Well, we would only need to see it once," John commented.

"Wait… none of you paid attention when they suited you up and removed it?" I asked. John and Sam shook their heads. "Boys…" I shook my head.

"Hey!" I watched Sam's jaw drop in offense. "You calling us stupid?"

"Hmmm… Just you, Sam." I smirked at him.

"Shut up, shortie." He grumbled. I cocked an eyebrow in response.

"Sam, you're digging yourself a hole here," Kelly recommended as she and Linda returned. "She's three inches shorter than you. As are most of us."

Sam cursed quietly but said nothing else as he hopped into his bunk. I stifled a laugh at his miniature tantrum. She was right though. Most Spartans came to 7' 1" in full armor.

"I'd like to know something from this… Covenant." I blurted. Several pairs of eyes turned to me. "Why attack us in the first place?"

"That's… a good question, actually. All we've heard from them is, basically, them wanting us dead. 'Will of the gods' or something." Fred nodded in agreement.

"Now, I'm as religious as the next guy-" Sam was interrupted by Linda.

"Not at all." She muttered. Sam ignored her.

"-But the 'Will of the gods'? The only 'Gods' I know come from our lessons of mythology and religion." He sighed audibly.

"If it's religion, there's no chance at peace right now. We'll have to fight and we _must_ win." Kelly replied.

The Commonwealth shuddered and turned, hard, and nearly dropped me out of my bunk. I looked down, or rather, up at the floor. Sam was chuckling at my predicament. I looked towards Linda, who was smirking as she held onto my ankle.

"Shut up Sam," I grumbled. He peeked over the edge of his bunk.

"I didn't hit the floor." He jested.

"Neither did I. Would you like to get acquainted with it?" I asked. He winced and rubbed his shoulder in mock pain.

"Nah, I got enough of that from Kelly earlier…" He disappeared again, and the light of his bunk dimmed out.

"I guess it is that time…" Kelly copied his actions. I turned my head around and spotted John reading in his bed. With a grunt, I heaved myself up by my waist and hauled myself back into my bunk.

"We need safety railings…" I chuckled quietly to Linda. She rolled her eyes and climbed up into her own bunk. I was mutely aware of Fred and John conversing as I slipped into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **-2358 hours, April 26, 2526-**

-Circinius IV, Unknown system-

-Outside Corbulo Training Academy-

I tapped John's arm as I looked through the scope of my rifle. I pointed two fingers forward, then held three up. He nodded, and we placed our rifles on our backs and drew our knives. The elites were roaring and growling, firing at something. We leaped down behind them and killed two of three. The third, hearing the dying gurgle of its comrades left itself open to UNSC munitions. Assault Rifle fire from Chief tore through its shields before I popped one round from my magnum through its head. The Elite's head turned into a welcome ball of flesh, brain matter and bone. It dropped with a metallic clang against the piles of broken concrete.

"Clear, Chief. For the moment. Thermal has four human signatures inside the ruins." I reported, grabbing my knife. His acknowledgment light winked green. I grabbed one of the energy swords from a dead elite, snapping it to my left thigh. We proceeded through the rubble, eliminating any Covenant we came across with extreme prejudice. The main entrance into the Corbulo Training Academy was covered by a massive central beam that had collapsed during the initial attack. I threw my arms up in annoyance and groaned.

 **-30 minutes Prior-**

-UNSC Constellation, Circinius IV-

-Corbulo Academy Orbital Platform-

"ODST's dropped around Corbulo Academy have been neutralized, and the Covenant are sweeping through the rest of the planet's population. Spartans, your objective is to neutralize Covenant forces and rescue any survivors." Captain William Thomas, commander of the UNSC Constellation, a Halberd-class destroyer, gave us our mission.

"Survivors are primary, Spartans." He addressed us. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir yes, Sir!" Chief and I replied instantaneously.

"Spartans 104 and 087, you will provide backup and extraction for Spartans 117 and 057." I watched in my peripheral as the other two of Blue team nodded in affirmation. "117, 057, you'll be taking pods to the surface in five. Dismissed!"

We all snapped our salutes and exited the briefing room at a brisk pace. John and I went to the drop pod bay, while Kelly and Fred went to the small hangar on the destroyer.

 _-Current Time-_

"Any other entrances?" I asked, looking to the left of the collapsed doorway.

"Negative," John replied. He placed his MA5B on his back, and I placed my magnum on my hip. Together, we shifted the beam enough to allow us to get through. Chief went first, squeezing through the gap. His armor scrapped against the beam, nudging it over a bit more. I proceeded next, several hisses and sizzles occupying the spot where my foot was not a half second earlier. I growled but followed after John.

"How many?" He asked, stepping over a bloody body.

"Four. At least. A company is probably on its way. At the very least." I replied.

He nodded and we stepped carefully down the corpse-filled corridors. Many were mutilated, covered with plasma burns and pink explosive residue from needler rounds. I huffed, the sound echoing inside the helmet. I knelt down and closed the eyes of a dead cadet. I stood, catching up to John in a couple quick strides. He held up his hand, and we paused. He quietly clamped his rifle to his back before drawing his combat knife and stepped around the corner into an armory. I peaked around; an Elite was laughing, it's visible eye filled with malice as it's energy sword crept towards someone in the small alcove in behind the closed lockers. John speared the elite in the neck, at the base of its skull, before throwing the beast sideways off his knife. The lights on the side of his helmet lit up.

"Four." He told me. I winked my acknowledgment light. "Gear up."

John radioed Kelly. "Kelly, rendezvous at evac alpha for pelican extraction. We have four survivors. Chief out."

"Why'd you come for us?" A tall, brown-haired boy asked.

"You're the only survivors," John replied.

"Of the school?" He asked again.

"On the planet," I replied, tearing open four lockers with a swift yank to the safety doors.

"We have twenty minutes to get to the evac point. Armor up." Chief ordered.

Now out of the protective alcove, the cadets suited themselves up and readied their respective assault rifles. Minutes later, we inching along the scorched wall back towards the front of the school, and the facility's garage of warthogs. The cadets paraded behind Chief as we walked through hallway after hallway of corpses, burnt and blackened, torn to pieces, and blown to even smaller bits.

We got outside of the facility and walked near a cliff wall to the warthog a hundred meters away. We crept along a scorched, now debris filled walkway outside the facility. Cold bodies with merciful plasma shots to the heads in several of them. The cold air blew through the section. A few feet in front of us, was solid, albeit beaten up and cracked concrete wall. A shot ripped through the leg of the second boy, Sullivan. Said the boy screamed in pain. Yanking him down behind the wall, I readied my own weapon.

"Cadets, get into cover," John ordered, firing on the jackals. Seems he spotted them first. The others didn't hesitate, while we somersaulted behind the wall ourselves. Four brilliant pink crystals and purple beams burned into the already scorched ground where we had been not seconds before. I scowled and prepared my rifle. Pulling the firing bolt of the high caliber weapon, I popped out, lined the sight with the eye of a jackal and fired in no longer than a second. As it fell, it fired through an ally's neck next to it, and they dropped dead. The two other birds squawked and growled in their twisted, alien language. I smirked slightly, disappearing back around the corner. As I peeked around with my rifle a second time, an angry blue beam ripped through the barrel of the weapon, rendering it useless. I immediately pulled back, disengaged the clip and threw the empty and destroyed weapon away.

"No rifle, Chief," I informed him. I could see his fog lights dance up and down in a nodding gesture, the white stripes on his forearm lighting up as he fired his weapon.

"Copy that, Jenna." John popped out, and fired at the jackals, hitting one. I could hear its squawk as I looked at the ground for a weapon. A blue beam ripped through the concrete next to me and I slammed into the ground with a heavy grunt.

"The other one is mad," Chief noted lightly.

"I blame you." I jested, my hand curling around an object.

It was rough, even though the metal liquid crystal body glove that surrounded me below the heavy panels of armor. The fog lights on the side of my helmet bobbed up and down several times as I changed angles and peaked out of cover, painting a picture of the ridge and the locations of the final jackal in my mind. I looked at the object in my hand, a piece of reinforced concrete with several metal rods - rebar - sticking from it. I heard John's rifle fire, and I straightened towards him, debris held in my right hand. With a burst of speed, I ran, leaped, turning sideways and threw the concrete at the last jackal. It squawked, fired, and missed me by several inches, a nice burn left on my armor as a memento from the close call. The 11-pound block slammed into the jackal's neck at nearly thirty miles an hour, snapping it on impact. I landed and rolled next to John, sprawled on my back. I looked up as his lights filled my polarising visor.

"Well done." He commented. "Reckless, but good."

I scoffed again. "If it works, it works." He pulled me to my feet and passed me a scavenged assault rifle and a pair of magazines. I took them from him, pocketed the one and loaded the rifle. I looked over at the cadets, whose jaws had dropped at my actions.

"Let's go," John ordered, and we continued on rapidly, reaching the troop transport Warthog with a fully traversable chaingun mount in the middle of the assembly. The senior cadet hoped shotgun, while another took the gun. The other two and I piled into the back. My armor clinked against the metal framework, while my boots pushed against the protective railing. The vehicle rumbled through my armor and body. It began to move, and I rested my head back against the hollow metal block. The bumpy ride turned smooth, as I was made aware of Chief talking to Kelly.

"-point Bravo, on the other side of Harental," Chief said.

"Roger, Chief. We're making a detour now. Evac Alpha was swarming with covvies. Don't imagine Bravo is much better, nor Charlie."

"We'll just have to do it our usual way," Chief replied. "117, out."

The Sullivan boy was groaning and screaming in pain. I placed a gloved hand over his mouth, as he squeezed my exposed elbow as hard as he could. I took a look at the wound, craning my neck to see a clean hole through the side of his lower thigh, barely missing the boy's hamstring. The warthog slowed to a stop and I listened to the chief switch to the gun, and the hog began moving again. The Warthog rolled onto two wheels, and a bolt of plasma snapped all of us into combat. I twisted and pulled my assault rifle into firing position, carefully avoiding John's feet as he returned fire with the gun. I rested just behind Lasky, firing the assault rifle at targets of opportunity.

"Jackals…" I commented. "And the shield biters too."

"Keep firing. Controlled bursts. Cadet, left, ten o'clock." Chief ordered.

The warthog leaned and turned, its engine growling to keep alive and moving. A glint caught the corner of my eye through my firing. In slow motion, a deadly purple needle pierced my visor for side to side, cutting a gash into the bridge of my nose, and continued through, exploding not a second later. I dropped back, staring out the two new additions to the expensive visor, shards of reinforced plastic-like glass buried in the skin of my cheeks. The cries of the cadets reached my ears. I slowly rolled back to face the other cadet up front, Silva. She was gone. Half of the back of her head was blown away and sprinkled with glowing needle shards and flowing blood.

John's foot pressed my back down and I obliged, staying flat against the bed. The firing was melodic, a new tune as it reached my ears, not just through the helmet receptors, but the two holes in my visor as well. The warthog seemed to growl as it pushed outside of the city. The machine sputtered, died and jackknifed on the dirt road. One by one, we disembarked, and I gently pulled the dead cadet's service tags from around her neck and closed her frightened, and fearful eyes. The warthog exploded not long after we got into the forest. After giving Sullivan biofoam, we hurried on our way before big trouble caught up to us in the form of hunters. My hud flickered and alternated between periods of static and clear activity.

"Run! Don't wait. Not even for us." Chief ordered, and the two of us engaged.

Our ammunition pinged against the thick armor of the hunters, vaguely aware of the running teens. I ran up and smacked one with the depleted assault rifle, which, expectedly broke the weapon, before jumping back over a shield swing. I rolled backward, before rolling sideways to avoid the second hunter's cannon arm. Kicking my foot up, the hunter discharged its weapon into several trees, setting them ablaze in a sick glory of green fuel and plasma. A dimming roar of pain and a loud crash briefly caught me and the second hunter off guard. The other one lay less than a meter away, an arm's length at most, with its head, arms, and legs shredded by 7.62mm FMJ rounds.

"I'm out," John told me. "We need to lose it."

"Roger that Chief." I followed after him as he began sprinting, narrowly dodging the enraged second hunter's powerful shield swing. We wove through the trees and found the cadets in a small cement shelter.

"We need to move," John told them. To emphasize his point, the hunter, which followed us, roared.

"Two-fifty meters, Chief," I informed him, looking at the hunter, and back again. I tapped Lasky, gently pressing Silva's dog tags into his hands. I pulled him to his feet and gave him a gentle shove in the direction the others went. We caught up within a minute, and we jumped down a several meter tall cliffs. A small indent at its base gave us a bit of shelter. I watched my motion tracker, the hunter entering its radius. I peaked over John's shoulder, watching a cadet give John the final remaining grenade amongst our group.

"Thank you," John said quietly.

"I'll distract it." I tapped John on the shoulder.

"Wait, ma'am." Lasky's hand grabbed at my armored forearm. I turned my helmet towards him. "I'll do it."

His friends protested it, but John and I both nodded at the boy. Lasky took a breath and ran as fast as he could. I stopped both of his friends with an arm, shaking my helmeted head. The hunter dropped down to the ground as it hit John away, continuing to shoot at Lasky. I took a ragged breath and charged in after the hunter, rolling under its shield and forcing its cannon up, as it discharged high into the trees, lighting them with green flames of discharged plasma. I drove my knife into what I assumed was its wrist. John's armored foot forced me away as it collided with my shoulder pad. I slammed against the soft, plastic-like membrane of the worms that made the hunter.

"Back," John said, springing away from the Hunter.

I barely got two steps before the explosion of the grenade knocked me over. Drops of glowing orange blood and worm bits from the Hunter covered the back of my armor, while shrapnel cut into, and in some cases, buried themselves into the exposed joints between the armor plates. I pushed myself up, and my right arm locked in place, a metal shard suppressing any bending motion of my elbow, grinding against the nerves in the joint. I clenched my teeth in irritation, joining up with John and the cadets as we slowly walked into the early morning rays of the sun, and towards extraction. The scorching on the plates of our armor barely reflected the sun, the black soot, and orange blood from the hunter absorbing the light. The rumble of the pelican's engines vibrated through the ground. The exhaust of its engines ruffled the grass and the nearby trees in the small clearing. It descended, and its bay opened, revealing Kelly, Fred and a pair of marines.

The cockpit entrance was sealed tightly, the flanking red lights dimly lit. The cadets piled in on one side, John took the seat nearest the entrance of the troop bay, while I sat next to Kelly with a grimace. I reached to my elbow and dug into the gouge in my skin and vacuum suit. I barely gripped the piece of shrapnel, but it was enough. I grit my teeth, and pulled the shard out with a grunt, dropping it to the floor of the pelican. Sullivan watched for my reaction. I didn't give him one, patching the wound with a squirt of biofoam from the first aid kit in the troop bay. Through the open bay door, the bright beams of Covenant cruisers crashed through the clouds, boiling the ground. The bay door slowly closed, cutting off the view of what's become a planetary graveyard for millions of people. The curvature of the planet came into view through a small window in the ramp, showcasing the burning and dying landscape that was Circinius IV. We landed in the Constellation's hangar, and the ship made a jump to slipspace.

We slowly exited out of the Pelican's troop bay and marched our way to the armory. The heavy thuds of my footsteps stopped climbing through my body as I stood before a doctor, my arm bent. Carefully, they worked at my armored arm, loosening the armor around the wound on my arm. I studied my HuD, watching armor diagnostics scroll across the holographic screen between the static periods, while techs began unclamping and peeling pieces of armor away from the layered bodysuit.

After a few moments, my arm was patched and my armor was removed, and the old vacuum suit was replaced by another. I met up with John, and we walked in absolute silence to the mess hall, joining Fred and Kelly. It was barren, with the cadets seated at one table, and marines scattered throughout the big room. We collected our high-calorie meals and sat at an unoccupied table in absolute silence. Even this early into the war, we all knew what the Covenant was capable of.

In space, there was no contest. No test of might between the fleets. Even with superior numbers, our ships didn't stand a chance against Covenant shielding and plasma weaponry. FLEETCOM gave Admirals and ship captains authorization for the use of shipboard stocks of WMDs. For us Spartans, it wasn't uncommon to see miniature suns appear in the middle of the Covenant fleet as we descended to the planetary battlefield or towards a high-value enemy vessel. Mostly, WMDs were withheld until late in the battle, when they could cause the most damage. We end up losing a lot of men and women that way.

Such is war.

Ground warfare was a different matter entirely. While it was common - even this early in the war - for UNSC Marines to fall in droves, when their backs were against the wall, the marines - solo, pairs, squads or platoons, it didn't matter. They fought like caged animals, giving no quarter to the Covenant. When we arrived, in some cases the Covenant were pushed back. From the start of the war, until now - almost sixteen months later - it was pyrrhic victories for the Covenant on the ground.

There is no such thing as overkill for us. Even with four of us for a single planet like Circinus IV, if it couldn't be saved, there was no reason to not make the Covenant die for every yard they took.

Our meals continued in absolute silence, even as Marines chatted around us in the now half full mess hall. Despite the hell that the Constellation escaped at Circinus IV, the marines and off-duty crew were chatting animatedly. They waved their arms about, made weird hand gestures and spoke about other battles waging across the Orion Arm. A few were about the insurrectionists and their continued raids of UNSC ships and supplies.

The Covenant and Harvest was the hot topic, however.

As I placed my empty food tray with the rest and followed the other members of Blue Team out of the mess hall, I couldn't help but wonder what our next assignment would be.


End file.
